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Ripe Apricots

a particular kind of potency

By Joy LooneyPublished 2 years ago 1 min read
Ripe Apricots
Photo by Waldemar Brandt on Unsplash

I crave validation like a stone fruit’s juice

Even though I hate the trepidation of waiting on texts from you

So pretty, so soft, in your flattery again I’ve been lost

Sucked away by the taste of sunshine

I forget again what I can’t call mine

Temporary time ellipse

Then next thing I know I’ve hit that cruel pit

Gone is flesh, left is bone

Should’ve sensed it from your change of tone

Should've savored it before it was gone

But I never learn —

Give me the sweetness, give me the worry

Like an addict, you know I’ll be reaching for another

In my maddened hurry

heartbreak

About the Creator

Joy Looney

A Nashville native turned New Yorker who writes about AI, data science, and all things tech by day and explores deep emotion, humor, and fantasy worlds by night.

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